Sacrifice
by daniellemcfarlane
Summary: C/H what is she worth to him?
1. chapter 1

A/N: I only own the idea. When I couldn't sleep last night this scenario played out in my mind. Let's see if it's actually as good when I attempt to write it out.

The shift had been a gradual one. Freedom had at first been liberating. Having the ability to once again look upon whatever his eye desired, instead of live through his memories had held an enchanting sway. Time, however, dulled its splendor and as the months turned to years Hannibal couldn't ignore the feeling that something was missing.

More often than not the halls of his mind castle hummed with the sound of her voice. To many nights he would wake from dreams with the feeling of her lips against his own. Frustration with the young agent had enforced his distance. That very same distance it seemed had been gradually chipping away at his focus. These days her face blocked out even the most splendid of views.

It was only when the shift became a tipping point that he found himself returning to her. This in itself made his instinct of preservation kick in to overdrive. He was playing with fire coming close to Clarice but he found he was willing to risk the burn. Had he known what he was about to walk in on perhaps he would have put aside his longing and continued to maintain his self-imposed distance.

His mind ran circles as he made the journey to the small duplex. Given the late hour he figured she would be sleeping. He wondered if he would be able to pacify his longing by simply looking upon her face. Always polite he aired on the side of caution and procured a bottle of wine as an offering. She had surprised him before with her fierceness. Perhaps she fought her sleep the way he fought his emotions.

Silence when he entered. The smell of blood in the air. He noted the acceleration of his heart rate as he briskly walked through rooms of little importance. The smell grew stronger now. In his mind the cries of his sister pierced through empty corridors. Was this the blooming of panic?

When he came to her bedroom the bottle slipped from his hand. The scent of red wine mixed with the coppery aroma of Clarice's blood. The shattering of the bottle was muffled by the heart beat roaring in Hannibal's ears. She was to still.

His shoes crunched on the glass. He paid it little mind. His throat felt clogged from the overwhelming scents of savagery that lay before him. With little thought he found himself checking for a pulse. Faint under his fingertips. How many times had she been stabbed? Who had done this? Where were they now? His temples throbbed in time with his own rapid pulse.

She coughed. Blood on her lips. Her eyes were not as vibrant as they had been the last time they had found his. Always bullheaded she attempted to move. He shook his head firmly. Hannibal felt a strange type of detachment settle over him as he surveyed the damage to her body.

"han…" His name cut short by coughing that shook her frame. So small he thought, as he applied pressure to the wound that was spilling her life out. He felt a tear slide down his cheek as he saw her wince in pain. Fumbling with his other hand he pulled his phone from his pocket.

"What?" always curious he thought. He ignored her questioning as he dialed. As he spoke she had attempted to sit up again. Tears of frustration fell down her own cheeks. Her eyes might not have been as vibrant, but the anger he felt directed at him still seared his skin. He shook his head in an attempt to silence her.

A shaky breath, way to crackly with blood he thought. "Why would you call them!" She had meant to yell, he guessed, but it had only come from her as a shaky whisper. "You need to go. I can't do this again."

"You won't be doing anything again if I release this pressure. Who?" His words were direct and void of the panic he felt in his chest. He had just wrapped the rope around his own neck. He hadn't even stopped to give it a second thought. The good ol boys were on the way as her blood slid between his fingers. Annoyed at the situation he doubled the pressure and added his other hand, dropping the phone.

"Didn't recognize, ow! You need to go." She still fought for his freedom. Did she realize the irony in the situation? "If they are on the way, I'll be okay, go."

He shook his head. "Do you realize how hard these past years have been? I have been all around the world, seen all the things I had been deprived of for so long, and yet this was the one I've wanted. What good is a view when it's void of vibrancy? I told you the world is a better place with you in it that applies to my world as well. I will not let you slip away from me." As he spoke he continued to press in to her. He ignored the impulse to run and the ache in his arms.

"You're selfish," she said. She could hear the wail of sirens in the distance. "I've spent my time going through the motions with your voice in my mind. Telling myself letting you go was better than the anguish of keeping you captive. Now you come here and willingly serve yourself to them for my benefit. I can't do this again Hannibal. I can't pretend like…" She became more animated in her speech and again coughs racked her. As she struggled to catch her breath more blood pulsed through his fingers. "Damn it!" Her voice was flat with exhaustion and defeat.

"This wasn't exactly how I hoped to find you. This isn't the last way I intend to see you. Things will work out, but not if you're not alive for them to do so."

"You don't realize how difficult it was for me. How draining it was to fight my feelings against my morals and let you go. You don't know how impossible it's been for me to keep my head above water with your ghost always on my back. Why would you turn yourself in? Why don't you go? I can't stay uninvested in you when you're right here. I can't see you behind glass again when I want to be touching you. I didn't think you would come back. Please don't do this to me again."

"Again? It appears my dear; your perceived transparency to me is anything but. Your hardly the open book that you think you are to me. You fooled Jack, and you fooled me. Had I the slightest idea of your plight I would have returned to you much sooner. The circumstances are the issue at hand. I will go with them, you will be cared for. The rest will follow. Trust me in that."

"I'll try." The sirens were right outside now. "Come here." Her hands were sticky with her blood as she lightly touched his cheek. "I'm cold." Fingers shook from the surprising amount of effort it took to hold them up. Her hand dropped back down as she began to tremble.

The chaos of a door being opened with too much force. The rapid approach of heavy foot falls. Would they tell him to put up his hands? Circumstances would force him to not comply. Would they shoot? Beneath his hands he felt Clarice tense as she trembled.


	2. 2

A/N: I only own the idea.

She had been sleeping when it happened. The dream filled with his presence had been unapologetically interrupted by the sharp and sudden pain of a knife sliding in to flesh. When she had opened her eyes they were still blurred with the remnants of sleep. The attack came swift and with little pause. Every time she thought the knife would leave her skin it was once again forced deeper with an intensity that caused her voice to stick in her throat.

Shame filled her as she was rendered powerless by her own body. Unable to move under the attack she felt removed as her blood pooled around her. Anger as her vision started to go black. Years of training and she lay helpless feeling her life drain out of her flesh. Somewhere the sounds of the attacker leaving registered.

"Would you ever say to me stop? If you loved me." His voice as it so often was in her mind. As her world swam around her Clarice wished more than anything to be with him. When the last thread of alertness left her it snapped with the sound of her name whispered in her mind from Hannibal's lips.

When one wakes from trauma it's with a sudden bone chilling clarity. No sleepy haze greets you, only the raw alertness of the situation at hand. The first thing Clarice registered was someone touching her. There was the scent of her blood, to much lost by the feeling of fog that clung to her senses. Then the smell of him. Unmistakable. Her eyes snapped to his face.

If she could just move a little. Pain caught her breath and coughing shook her frame. It made it worse. The taste of blood on her lips made her want to retch. "Han…" More coughing stole his name from her. What was he doing here? Was he safe? Why did it smell like wine?

The feeling of his hand pressing harshly against the wound sent a new type of pain through her. What was he fumbling for with his other hand? What was he doing with his phone? Panic gripped her as an absurd thought bubbled to the surface of her mind. He wouldn't be so foolish. Was that a tear on his cheek? "What…" The rest of her words fell short as she heard him talk. If she could show him she was okay he could still have time to leave. She attempted to force herself to sit up, but more pain left her stuck. Frustrated now tears joined the blood leaving her body.

Anger made her voice shake. "Why would you call them! You need to go, I can't do this again." How could he just give up what she had worked so hard to give him? What if this time he wasn't so lucky? Would she be able to keep up appearances long enough to help him escape somehow?

As the phone fell to the ground it felt like a bomb dropping. The feel of his other hand joining the first sent waves of pain through her as he added more pressure to the wound. It took so much energy to focus on the words he was saying to her. When he asked her who had done this to her she found her mind asking if it mattered. The only thing she could focus on was the fact that his freedom was getting closer and closer to being taken from him. If she could convince him to leave, maybe she could stay awake until help arrived.

Of course he wouldn't listen to her. His medical knowledge wouldn't have him so easily fooled. Her heart picked up speed when he told her how he had wanted to see her all this time. If asking nicely wouldn't work, perhaps anger and blunt honesty would do the trick. Laying all her cards on the table she had been about to tell him everything she had held back, but once again annoying coughing stole her words. The sirens in the distance felt like a hand around her throat.

How would he have liked to see her? Would she see him again without glass between them? What if he wasn't given the option of a cell and was put right in the ground. Anxiety raced through her mind. Surprise that he hadn't seen her for all she was. In her mind she had felt exposed but it seemed he didn't see through her as she had once thought. His words of reassurance held a conviction she didn't feel but she attempted to take strength from them.

"I'll try," the words were out of her mouth before her mind could catch up. If this was going to happen she needed more from him then his voice. She hadn't expected him to listen when she told him to come closer. She shouldn't have been surprised, considering he was literally walking away from the world to protect her. When her hand touched his face she wished it hadn't have been intercepted with the film of her blood. Too many years had passed between them for even that to come between their skin. When she started to tremble and her hand fell from his face she did her best to prepare herself for the approaching storm.

Tension filled her body as the approach of footfalls grew louder. Desperately she met his eyes. What if they shot him on the spot? How could she keep him safe when her own body was holding her captive/ Time wasn't on her side and words didn't come quick enough before the presence of others filled the room around her.


	3. Fin

A/N: I only own the idea

They came in swiftly, much like the cacophony of noise that left him and his sister orphaned.

"FBI, hands up!"

Gruff orders barked from little boys pretending to be men. Making demands without proper assessment of the situation at hand.

"Perhaps you should look before you speak. Removing my hands for your bravado show would end a life I care not to."

More sirens. Hopefully proper medical attention. People were always the slowest when time was sensitive. Briefly he registered the blood between his fingers starting to crust. This didn't bode well for Clarice. Swallowing the lump in his throat Hannibal continued.

"I assume the paramedics are ariving now? I will go with you when I am satisfied with her care."

No surprise he felt guns pointed his way. He felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. The show was growing tedious. They would have already been dead if not for Clarice. Concern flooded him then. What if she didn't pull through this? Sure he could break free again, but a life without her was proving to be very bland.

Her whisper was almost lost in the surrounding voices. He had wanted to hear his name from her lips but not like this. Her lips were turning blue. He felt something inside him sink. They were to slow.

"I'm so cold." Her voice was hardly a breath.

Ignoring the guns now he removed his hands from the wound. The blood flow was to slow. He felt tears on his cheeks as he fell to his knees.

"I'll keep you warm." His voice sounded broken to his ears as he pulled her in to his lap.

A whimper almost lost in the shouts to let her go. He ignored them as his hands found her face. It was getting cold. Her hair held her warmth.

"Guns" her voice shook. "I can't feel you."

He didn't think she had the life force left to cry but noticed a tear slide down her cheek.

"I am here. You are strong. Clarice I love you." whispered words as he lowered his lips to drink her tear. Far in the distance registered the shouts of the boys behind him.

The imbeciles thought he was going to bite her. He felt her last breath leave her small battered frame. He tightened his grip with the hope to keep it in.

He heard the gun fire before he felt the bullets. The idiots didn't even care about her. They never did.

Resting his cheek on hers he allowed his mind to take them away. Here they were happy. Here things were simple. As his body rocked from the impact of entry wounds Hannibal and Clarice danced in the ballroom of his mind. A breeze lifted her hair and carried the giggles of his sister. Logic was falling away as his control of his mind fell as his life began to fade.

The feel of her in his arms was distraction from the pain shooting through him.

As he felt his thoughts start to slip away he realized they made a beautiful teacup. Soon they would all come back together.

The last thing he saw was her smiling, his sister holding her hand.

The room fell silent as the weapons stopped. No one noticed the breeze that carried the scent of lavender or the giggles of a child. As the agents took in what remained of the two bodies they failed to see the the way the so called monster cradled his love.


End file.
